


You Look Perfect

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 17:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16000331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Mulder's face is in need of... make-up? Scully helps.





	You Look Perfect

I’m not sure this is what you had in mind, but this is what I came up with. Sorry that it took me forever to write it.

“Mulder, what happened to your face?” 

“Good morning to you too, Scully,” he replies hanging up his coat. As he turns, she is by his side, staring at his slightly puffy cheek, the dark blue-black shadow on his cheekbone right under his eye. 

“Does it hurt?” She asks, her voice concerned but gentle. She looks at him waiting for an answer and he knows she won’t touch it – him – until he gives her one. Mulder attempts to smile, but the muscle movements are too much for his bruise and it results in a crooked grimace. 

“Only when I smile. So I shouldn’t be feeling too much pain.” His joke falls flat. 

“Mulder, you can’t go out like this.” 

“It’s my face, Scully. What am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t you remember? Today’s the reevaluation meeting with Skinner, Kersh and half the FBI. What are they going to think when they see you like this?” Mulder remembers. Skinner reminded him just two days ago and as always, Mulder was only half listening, nodding along to whatever his boss was saying. Now he and Scully are exchanging worried glances. The meeting is important. Very much so. The x-files are, as always, on the line. They’ll look at them, at their unwanted division, with eagle eyes. His own black eye will not help their cause. They’re always looking for any excuse to shut them down. The possibility of him in a fist fight, proving his insanity, reason enough. 

“You have to excuse me, Scully. Say I’m sick, say… oh you’ll think of something. Just-”

“No.” Her answer is full of stubborn defiance. 

“You said yourself I can’t go out like this. They’re going to see me and they’re going to shut us down – again. They won’t listen to me. Or believe me, no matter what I say.” 

“What did happen, Mulder? How did you get a black eye?” Scully’s voice is softer now, gentle. He melts to it, can’t ever not. He faces her with a sheepish look.  

“You won’t believe it either.”

“Try me.” Mulder knows how bad his eye looks and even worse, he knows that it looks like he’s been in a fight. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“I ran into a door.”

“Mulder.” His name is nothing but an exasperated sigh from her mouth. Her fingers, however, now prodding his cheek, couldn’t be more affectionate.

“I told you. It’s the truth. I ran into my bedroom door. I’m not used to sleeping in there and I forgot.” She finds his eyes and stares long and hard at him. Mulder doesn’t blink. For once he’s telling the truth. Albeit only half of it. 

“Fine, Mulder. Have it your way. I have an idea and you’re not going to like it.”

“Try me,” he parrots her words, but she’s barely looking at him anymore. Scully retrieves her handbag and takes out a small, rectangular casket. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

“Please tell me there’s a mask hidden inside that box.” She ignores him and takes out more trinkets. He recognizes them, having spent many hours on the road with Scully, even shared a bathroom with her here and there. It’s her make-up kit. 

“It’s the only way.”  

“There’s got to be another one. Do you have any idea how it will look if they see me wearing make-up?”

“No one will know. And it’s better than you wearing this particular shade of black and blue. Let’s just try this.” Her eyes are pleading with him and how can he say no to that? He gives a small, defeated nod and Scully, trying to suppress a grin, leads him over to his office chair. He slumps down, feeling miserable and sorry for himself. Scully doesn’t wait another second and starts to work on his face. It shouldn’t surprise him that she’s as efficient with this as with everything else.

“I once let Sam put make-up on me,” he says just to make conversation. His little sister had been five or six years old. He had looked like a clown. There should be a picture of it somewhere, he thinks. Unless his parents threw it away like so many other things. Too many memories, too much pain. He remembers it anyway; Sam’s giddy laughter, her pride. 

“I bet you looked cute.” Scully is so close to him that her breath caresses his skin. It feels nice, makes this whole ordeal worth it. He just needs her to keep talking.

“I always look cute. Don’t I?” That only ears him a smile. 

“Mulder, what did really happen to your eye?”

“I told you.”

“You’re sticking to that story?”

“It’s the truth.” She sighs and applies more pressure to his cheek than before. It almost hurts.

“Fine.” 

“Last night I decided to sleep in my bed, in my bedroom,” Mulder begins and waits a beat to see if Scully reacts; when she’s quiet, meticulously applying the slightly cool cream to his face, he keeps going. “I didn’t close the bedroom door all the way. It was late anyway. I didn’t even think I’d fall asleep. I did. It was still dark outside when I heard my phone. I didn’t have it with me in the bedroom and thinking it might be – just wanting to answer it, I ran. I ran right into my half closed bedroom door. I swear that’s what happened, Scully.” To his greatest surprise she chuckles. 

“Who was calling you in the middle of the night?”

“The Gunmen, but I… I told them to never do that again unless it’s an emergency.”

“But you what?”

“It sounds like you were expecting someone else.” Scully is still not looking at him; her eyes are fixated on his bruise. He has no idea what it looks like now, what his whole face looks like. It’s a strange sensation, all of it. His skin tingles, feels tighter and not like his own. He’s not sure if that’s only the make-up.

“Oh, you know.”

“I don’t know, Mulder. That’s why I’m asking.” 

“You,” he admits and he is certain that Scully falters, missing a spot on his cheek. “I thought you were calling me. I thought… you’d only call me this late, or this early, if something was really wrong. I couldn’t take that chance.” 

“So this is because of me?” Scully’s hand cups his cheek, one finger gently caressing it. He should ask her if that’s a good idea with the make-up, whether she’s messing it all up. He would ask, too, except it feels too good and that’s the only thing he cares about. 

“It was worth it,” he chokes. 

“You’re done, Mulder,” Scully says and takes a step back to examine her work. She stares at him, comes closer a few times to make sure it looks right. 

“And?”

“Hm, just one more thing…” He doesn’t see it coming, doesn’t expect her at all. She leans forward, her hands on his thigh and kisses his lips. It’s soft and lingering; a promise, a thank you. Before Mulder can react, draw her into his lap, kiss her for all he’s worth, she draws away again with a grin on her face. 

“What…” but he doesn’t have any words; his heart is beating too fast and his mind is too slow to catch up.

“I couldn’t let you go without the hint of lipstick, Mulder. Now you look perfect.”


End file.
